


Finders, Keepers

by mikkimikka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Team Bonding, more characters than listed but these are the main ones....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimikka/pseuds/mikkimikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finders, Keepers. Loser is Reaper!</p><p>Near Ilios the junkers find a bastion bot and attempt to keep him for scrap. Unfortunately for them Talon and the newly reformed Overwatch are about to converge on the point! This isn't going to end without a fight.</p><p>mcreaper!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Bastion is not yet referred to as Bastion because there is no one to call it that. Right now it is not being used as a proper name. It is merely a bastion rather than Bastion.

Standing upon a cliff near Ilios, one could become mesmerized by the way the sky seemed to burn with stripes of colors painted by the rising sun. It was the very beautiful ass crack of dawn, on day –who knows- of the fugitive’s journey. Childish wonderment reflected in the man's amber eyes as he took it in greedily.

He sat on his haunches, weight settling heavily on the ball of his foot before sliding forward and pressing his bare knee to the ground. He had long since gotten in the habit of favoring it over the stump of the other. The peg was sturdy but he always felt more grounded by the feel of earth against his skin. The feeling of the grass and dew cooled him.

Together with his bodyguard and comrade, Roadhog, Junkrat was living something like a wild dream. Day by day they traveled without particular regard to the future. For Junkrat, for as long as he could remember the future had been filled with uncertainty. He just learned to blast his way, or in the case of Roadhog, power his way through it. They had the tendency to get by with their bodies mostly intact.

Behind him Junkrat could hear the rustling of his mate as he rummaged around. He didn’t turn back even as a can was pressed against his bare shoulder. Lifting his mechanical arm, Junkrat grasped it. Roadhog didn’t let go and Junkrat was pulled to his feet. When he was upright Roadhog finally let it go.

“Alright, alright, I got it,” tsked Junkrat with a roll of his eyes and shoulders. “We gotta go.”

Roadhog was bugging him about it for the past 10 minutes. The big guy didn’t like to stay rooted in one place. It was for good reason, but sometimes Junkrat liked to appreciate the things he was seeing. After all, it was his first time in 25 years of living that he was ever seeing any of it outside of the dingy pages of an outdated textbook or travel guide.

They packed lightly, the entirety of their possessions fit neatly on the large rucksack slung over Roadhog’s wide shoulders. Junkrat watched as his partner moved and the gentle swing of his back as his fingers opened the can of juice offered to him.

“Say, what is this stuff anyway?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for the answer before tipping his had back and ingesting it.

He crushed the can, it was quite small, and hobbled his way over to his partner’s side.

“What was that?” Junkrat asked. “I didn’t hear ya.”

Roadhog’s head shifted a little to his left to regard Junkrat, hunched from the weight of the rip tire on his back, but happy.

“It tasted like grape to me too,” Junkrat beamed.

He glanced down at the crushed can in his hand. It was white with pink lettering, none of which he understood.

“It’s all Greek to me!” cackled Junkrat slapping Roadhog’s large bicep.

He then turned and stuck the empty can in the side pocket of the rucksack. They trudged on in like fashion. Junkrat was talking almost nonstop about nothing and everything. He was basically narrating their every move and the changes in their surroundings.

The pace was quick.

They were lighter than they were just a few days ago. They’d met up with a black-market ring to sell some of their recently pilfered goods, and with pockets bulging they were set to make their journey further east Junkrat supposed. Going anywhere back up north or west would probably be a bad idea, seeing as the British were still sour about their crown jewels, and the French were still searching for a few choice works of art.

As the sun climbed higher and higher into the air it looked like the start of an amazing day. Junkrat voiced as much as that, and he wouldn’t be wrong either. Though it wasn’t for the reasons he would have guessed it to be. No, the day was going to be the beginning of yet another landslide in what the junker pair had learned to call life.

* * *

 

“Shhh,” Junkrat said to nobody, really. Neither of them had been talking.

It was nearly midday. The sun was almost directly ahead and in front, behind, and all around them Junkrat and Roadhog could see an seemingly endless span of rolling hills of the Grecian shoreline stretching out from the blue that was the Mediterranean Sea.

Naturally, that was what was expected to be seen, but in the sunlight there was a glisten that caught Junkrat’s curiosity. An impish grin took over his face, a sharp canine pressing into his bottom lip in barely contained glee.

“You see that over there,” Junkrat spoke in an aside to his pal.

There was a grunt of affirmation and Junkrat hopped upon his legs in a little dance. His hands rubbed together greedily. He would have started running all together but one of Roadhog’s large fingers hooked into the back of his shorts stopping his movement.

“It’s an Omnic,” was Roadhog’s warning tone, louder than anything else he’d said that day.

“Looks like a nice hunk of scrap to me!”

“Doesn’t look decommissioned,” Roadhog may have been eyeing it suspiciously behind his mask.

“Well, it’s only one. We can just blow him up!”

Roadhog let go of his friend and Junkrat scrambled to get his grenade launcher adjusted on his shoulder before tramping down the hillside towards their find.

The closer they got the easier it was to see it was indeed an Omnic. It was not only old but outdated, obviously having gone decades without any upgrades. Still, it wasn’t as overgrown as one would expect it to be. Though a bit rusted the bot was fairly clear of any overgrowth. The only things on it were a few scattered olive leaves and a bird perched right on its long barrel.

Roadhog identified it as they descended the hill.

“It’s a bastion.”

“Huh? One of those old things, huh?” scoffed Junkrat.

He stopped and adjusted the grenade launcher on his shoulder. It was loaded just in case. Roadhog figured the only reason the bastion hadn’t been blown to bits yet was because the thing was looking to be worth a pretty penny with the conditions the parts were in.

“If we dismantle it you can carry it, right, big guy?”

It was in sentry mode and looked quite small in the distance hunched over the way it was like a box. If Junkrat were to be honest, it was his first time seeing one of those things in real life. He had distaste for Omnics that ran pure through his veins yet there was a natural curiosity innate within him. Regardless, this Omnic, like all others, was only worth the price of the scrap he was made up of. He didn’t have any reason to think otherwise.

As they got closer the bird on the unit’s shoulder perked up, craning its neck this way and that before catching sight of the two intruders. It chirped, wings fluttering as it issued cries of alert. In seconds the seemingly dormant Omnic came online, a blue light appearing in what could be interpreted as an eye.

Roadhog didn’t wait and neither did Junkrat. They were ready for battle. Even if it had wished to the thing didn’t have a chance to get out of its sentry mode to retreat. Immediately he was hailed with a barrage of scrap bullets smacking against his rusted form. The barrel of its turret seemed to spin, ready to shoot back but Junkrat was quicker, throwing out a concussion mine and setting it off.

The bastion went flying through the air in a beautiful arch that Junkrat took only a second to admire. Mid air the bastion scrambled, changing into what Junkrat guessed to be a recon configuration. As the thing unfurled Junkrat was shocked by the size of it.

“They really did build them bigger in those days, didn’t they?” he mused as the thing hit the ground rolling.

The bastion gathered its bearings, getting to its legs and then pointing its gun at the two junkers as he went running backwards. Junkrat fired with seeming recklessness a series of grenades in the Omnic’s direction. A rush of adrenaline from the loud booming sounds followed each pull of his trigger finger.

Junkrat wasn’t a fighter by any means. He was too hobbled and clumsy for any traditional kind of fight. But he was resourceful and a survivor. His upbringing made sure of that. He definitely could hold his own in a battle: as long as he stayed on the defensive. He kept enemies at bay.  
It was Roadhog’s job to take them head on and absorb the brunt of the damage. It was what he hired him for. Roadhog was pretty damn good at his job.

As Junkrat pelted the enemy bastion with explosives Roadhog pressed forward with all of his being. His scrap gun hung in front of him as he unloaded a full round of ammunition at the bastion and denting its already weakened armor.

The Omnic wasn’t as strong in his recon mode and he was near out. It was the perfect time for Roadhog to go for the final kill. Roadhog grabbed the hook at his side, legs halting in their approach as he took aim. The chain rattled and then snapped tight as the hook soared through the air and then latched onto its target. Roadhog pulled and brought the bastion unit closer to him and with a single melee punch to the face the unit was down.

“Ugh, Roadie!”

Roadhog turned away from the downed unit to glance back at his charge who was busy swatting at the bird that was now hovering quickly and pecking at the lean junker’s face. It managed to dodge every swat aimed at it with an angry chirp. The scene caused a guttural laugh to bubble out from behind Roadhog’s mask right from the belly.

“You’re no help!” Junkrat cursed as the bird finally flew away to the heap of metal that was its friend.

Junkrat watched as the bird landed with a sad chirp on what would be the bastion’s shoulder. The intimidating piece of machinery lay completely inert.

“Welp, I guess we better hurry and bag ‘im up!” Junkrat said shuffling over to their prize.

The thing was heavy, too heavy to carry on Roadhog’s back, so they had to tie it with rope and drag it along. Thankfully it didn’t leave too much of a trail. The last thing the two wanted to do was be tracked. They walked and walked until well past dusk, though their progress was hindered by the new load.

Tuckered out they found shelter in the skeleton of a decaying farmhouse. Without an ounce of delicateness Roadhog tossed the bastion aside causing a string of curses to fall out of Junkrat’s mouth at how little care was being taken. Junkrat contemplated working on taking apart the heap of junk now or after some grub. His stomach won out.

He followed his pal out of the shack to where he was already getting started on the grub. A heavy clap on Roadhog’s back served as signal to his arrival and the bastion was finally alone.

 

* * *

 

Jesse McCree, outlaw, soldier, and bounty hunter, at 37 years old he already wore so many hats. Another one had been placed on his head, this one felt a little too much like an ill fit for him. McCree wasn’t an overly modest man, if he were speaking honestly. He had a bit of pride and held his chest out as he walked. He felt big with a gun at his side and his boots clomping around the place.

He was leader material, yes. But Overwatch was never something he really saw as his to lead. It was stifling. The goody goody feel of it never really matched with his image the way the covert ops of Blackwatch did.

He joined but refrained from getting involved in the logistics of any of it. He’d probably get them into more trouble than Winston wanted them to be in. Winston was a bit by the book even for a guy defying international law with the recall. Reinhardt and Tracer seemed more interested in the job.

Wandering the halls of the old abandoned facility of Gibraltar left an odd lingering feeling in his gut. So many good times were recalled to mind but there was the muffled sting of unspoken doubts. What was he doing there? He felt like an old man accepting a place among the fold, as if he could capture some sort of remnant of the old days.

Of the bunch who heeded the invite, Reinhardt was one of them. McCree wasn’t surprised by it. Nor was he surprised by the arrival of Torbjorn , the knight’s best friend. The pair was an odd match but they fit together well. Tracer came back, she was the first one to answer, as did Mei, to McCree’s surprise and Genji. Angela said she’d come but she hadn’t showed her face yet. He looked forward to that.

But it wasn’t just a collection of old faces. Two new recruits, the exact story of their getting involved with Winston still a mystery to the gunslinger, brought a much needed brightness to the place. Lucio and Hana stuck together in a way that was expected of both the newest and youngest of the troop but they were definitely not kept at arm’s length by the others.

Even so, even with the quickness with which things were seemingly righting themselves, with the way he got so familiar with the slowly steady stream of missions (much more covert than Overwatch used to be and actually much more to Jesse’s comfort), there was still time to wonder about the ones that didn’t return.

Some were dead and buried, Commander Jack Morrison being one of them. Supposedly Gabriel Reyes had died too but McCree never really allowed himself to believe it. He wasn’t even sure why exactly he clung to the notion, but he for years entertained the idea. He’d heard the reports of the body pulled from the wreckage while Morrison's was never found.

Angela was there, she would have saved him. Just seeing the things she did for Genji showed that all she needed was a body to succeed. But McCree began to question his own sanity when faced with the details. He was told about the funeral; performed with a closed casket. Was he being delusional? Perhaps he was projecting his hope onto the world.

Confirmation had come after that. It was tacit as on a train he'd disposed of a cluster of Talon operatives using Blackwatch's playbook. Reyes had written said playbook and he wasn't a man someone could mimic easily. Those minions were taught by the master's hand but had not the talent to wield their skills properly.

Someone of Jesse's caliber was able to dispose of them easily on his own but the fact that he knew Reyes was alive and teaching them was something he pushed back into some small corner of his mind.

The knowledge of Gabriel’s existence though didn’t trouble him in the least. It didn’t make him angry because of what he allegedly did to Overwatch. No, McCree refused to hear any of that until he could have it from his damn mentor’s own mouth.

Instead as he lay in his bunk staring up at the ceiling at night he couldn’t help but grin around the butt of his cigar clenched between two rows of teeth. Gabriel was alive and he damn sure couldn’t wait to see him again. He’d show him what’s what for disappearing and never even bothering to say hello.

“Cheeky bastard,” he muttered into the darkness.

But there was no anger in it. There never was.

There were many nights like that for McCree where he’d allow himself to wonder what Reyes was doing; if it were night wherever he was, or if it was morning. Regardless they sat under the same sky.

Maybe Gabriel knew about Overwatch’s recall too, heard it from some dark corner of Dorado where he shared shots of tequila with that Soldier 76 character. He made up dreams until he fell asleep but he didn’t think of them of anything but apparitions to reach for but never seem to catch.

He was lulled to sleep by familiar thoughts.

In a few hours McCree would bodily enter a dream many times deferred and not quite like the ones he had imagined.

 

* * *

 

SST Laboratories Siege Automaton ES4 was in bad shape but he'd experienced worse. His bird friend had pecked away at the ties binding him so he was freed. It seemed to know exactly how to rouse it. With the whirring of its inner systems the bastion unit was woken from its sleep. Immediately a scan noted it of the need for self repair. Its arm, the one free of a gun, changed into a tool. The bot began the process. A caution sign appeared around it as it worked. The damage was extensive and it would likely take all night.

To a background of the sounds of crickets chirping and the occasional screech of the human outside, it worked.

 

-to be continued-


	2. Recovery

_Beep beep. Boop boop._

Junkrat's mind was awakened by a series of disturbing sounds.

_Bu-weep._

He shot up so quickly he gave himself whiplash. He looked around him. It was still dark. He didn't feel rested at all. Maybe he'd only been asleep for an hour, if that. Roadhog was awake across from him, he could tell by the way he breathed through his mask. He squinted at his partner and noticed that he was watching, looking towards the inside of the abandoned shack.

"What is it?"

He was hushed by the rise of one of Roadhog's large hands. Roadhog held his hand up, frozen in position and it caused Junkrat to freeze as well. Though he was a lot worse at it. He had a constant shake about him even when sitting still. He couldn't help his tremors, never could.

Suddenly they heard it again, a chirp and then heavy footsteps from within the building. Junkrat tensed, knowing exactly what it was. It was the bastion! Junkrat went to reach for his grenade launcher at his side but Roadhog once again hushed him, a little louder this time.

Out poked the cautious head of the bastion. The Omnic peered about, blue lit head looking to and fro before landing on the two Junkers. It froze and then disappeared back inside.

"What's it-"

Junkrat was shushed and he felt his head grow a little hot from it.

"Why—It's alive! We need to turn it into scrap metal!"

"It's afraid," Roadhog replied.

"And it oughtta be!" bristled Junkrat and he watched as Roadhog moved to stand.

Faster than one would think of a man with one leg, Junkrat followed Roadhog's lead. He got up on his good foot, pulled his grenade launcher up as he did. Roadhog stalked towards the shack. He was about to reach when he halted, held his hand out pushing Junkrat back.

"What is it now?" snapped the younger of the two.

"That Omnic survived our offense."

"Of course it did, so we have to disassemble it! Tear it apart! Blow it up even!" reasoned Junkrat.

Roadhog just breathed heavily into his mask something like a laugh.

"Trust me, we'll get him this time," Junkrat said.

He pushed past his friend's bulk, launcher on his shoulder, ready for battle.

* * *

 

Tracer had given him the signal and McCree could feel the pre-mission jitters really start to come to him in full force. It was excitement with a little healthy dose of fear that gave him the needed shot of adrenaline to face death in the face daily as his job.

It was near landing time. He glanced around at the other members of his team for the day.

Lucio, D. Va , and Tracer were the only ones there with him and he called to mind the earlier conversation he had with Winston before leaving the base.

_"We have to take care that we don't go into the place making a lot of noise. This is a very sensitive operation. According to our intelligence Talon will be escorting a payload of highly dangerous weapons and ammunition for their personal use to the docks at Ilios at 0700 this morning. We have it under direct orders from our source that we do everything so that the general citizenry are not alerted to this. Do you understand me, McCree?"_

_McCree looked up at Winston with an impassive yet content expression on his face. It was morning but he looked alert and ready, standing in the aircraft hangar dressed in his trademark boots and serape. He turned his lips upward into a confident smirk._

_"Now, you worry too much, Winston. When have you known me to cause a ruckus anywhere? I'm as quiet as a mouse."_

_"It's not you I'm worried about," Winston said, and he shot a look towards the two young members who were to be accompanying McCree on the day's trip._

_"Oh," McCree's voice tapered off at the end in realization. "Right."_

McCree made his way towards Lucio and Hana. He took his seat in his chair and buckled the seat belt.

"You remember all that Winston said about this mission, I hope," McCree began.

He paused and took in the eager faces of the two young fighters.

"We're a team, don't go running ahead of the herd. Stick together. I trust those Talon goons won't be too hard for us. If we can keep them from getting in the city we won't have to worry about causalities. Lena'll land us about 2 kilometers from their hide out. We'll go on foot from there. Understood."

"Understood," Lucio and D.Va nodded.

"Good."

* * *

 

10 kilometers away from Ilios city limits operated a black market dealer. They dealt with a variety of high end items. Banned furs, stolen jewels and works of art were of course things they offered but their true specialty was in arms. Stowed away beneath the long forgotten ruins were boxes of live munitions.

It was morning and two lazy guards, merely members of the group, ducked out from under a support beam and into the morning light. In the direct center of the ruins was a dugout, perfectly square, perhaps left behind by whatever archaeological crew had came in there. The remains of the archaeologists' camp provided a perfect hiding place for the small band of marketeers.

They had a particularly good buyout the previous day. They met with two Australian men in Ilios who bartered away quite the haul of jewels and other previous finds. No questions were asked as to where they were acquired. It wasn't necessary. Now they had another appointment, this time with a rather familiar terrorist organization.

"Hey," one of the men hit his partner in the arm to get his attention and then gestured ahead, up the ramp.

Seated at the top of the ramp was a man draped, despite the comfortable weather, in a heavy black cloak. Only a slither of his actual skin was exposed; it was an unnatural gray. He was Reaper. That was the only name they were given to call him. His partner, the woman who usually arrived with him was Widowmaker, was nowhere to be seen at that moment, but she was as curious looking as Reaper was. Her skin was violet and cold as death to the touch.

"G'mornin," one of the men called up to the dark figure.

The cloaked figure tilted its head and lifted a clawed hand up in reply. He looked scary but somehow the gesture was incredibly human.

"It's about time," he said loud enough for the two to hear.

"We've just about readied the payload," they assured him and let out a breath of relief when Reaper lost interest in them and got up to walk away.

He halted in his steps however as he took in the tell tale sounds of heavy footsteps approaching along with the sound of awkward grenades. He could distinguish the sound of those footfalls anywhere. His mind quickly took him back to a time decades ago on the battle field where he was surrounded by hundred if not thousands of them.

"Bastion," he muttered.

He raised a hand to his communicator at his ear.

"Widowmaker, trouble incoming."

He dropped his hand and then looked at the men still below in the dugout.

"You two, go make sure the payload is ready. We may have to get out of here sooner than planned."

The two men exchanged looks and then nodded before taking off in the direction of the aforementioned vehicle.

Reaper rolled his neck and grabbed his two shotguns from where they were resting. He wasn't looking forward to facing a bastion again. Not because he couldn't take it, but it was a damned annoyance.

"Fucking tin cans," he grumbled and with that he ran off towards the sounds of the foot steps.

The closer the bastion came the more the footsteps became obvious as well as the occasional blasts of a grenade. Reaper spotted the intruders before they spotted him and he ducked behind a pillar of some sort as the bastion and the two with him neared.

The Omnic was a bit worse for wear but he fit in along with the two humans that pursued him. One was a hulking large man with a mask and the other man was also tall but wiry and moving with a bit of difficulty among the littered and rocky path.

It took no time for Reaper to come to the realization of who exactly those two men were. Mako Rutledge and Jamison Fawkes were in Ilios. The pursuit of these men did not stop with the proper authorities. No, these men had managed to notoriously produce enemies wherever they went. Talon was included on the list.

Reaper shook his head at his luck. The fact that the two were foolishly storming into his arms was all too glorious and a little too easy. He almost lamented having to do it that way. He always preferred a bit of a challenge.

The bastion, Fawkes and Ruthledge ran past Reaper and down into the dugout. Reaper smirked, as it seemed they were just making it easier for them to attack them at once. Reaper pushed away from the pillar and let his body dissolve into his wraith mode as he followed them down.

He circled them as took in the equal parts shock and fear his pray had at his appearance before settling down and redrawing his two shotguns. He smirked from behind his mask and pointed them, ready for his death blossom.

"Die! Die! D-"

The words were stopped from his mouth as he was hit in the midsection. His guns were knocked from his hands and he reached down to grab onto the hook as he was pulled close to his attacker. He was freed of the hook only to get hit with a face full of scrap.

"Way to go, Roadie!" Junkrat cheered from where he had dove behind a crate.

"Bu-weep!" the bastion cheered too.

"Hey!" Junkrat said narrowing his eyes at the Omnic. "You're not on our side."

The bot let out an apologetic bloop but they had to cut the conversation short there because Roadhog's large body went smashing into the opposite wall. Reaper was on his feet and he picked up his shotguns, ready to take aim at the large junker while he was down.

"Oh no you don't!" Junkrat scowled and fired grenades at Reaper's feet.

They exploded and bastion went into sentry mode and began shooting relentlessly. Reaper did some quick footwork to avoid it before dissolving again into his wraith mode. Each of the bastion's bullets and Junkrat's grenades were rendered useless.

"Oi, Roadie! Wake the fuck up we're dying here!" Junkrat squealed in a panicked voice.

He was downright spooked by Reaper's wraith ability. He'd seen a lot in his days in the outback but ghosts wasn't something he ever believed in. He had hoped their opponent's mask and overall get up was for show but the man was displaying some real preternatural abilities.

Roadhog sat up and shook his head, getting back to his knees as Reaper made his way up the ramp and returned to his physical form.

Junkrat tapped the bastion to signal for him to follow and the robot went to recon mode and followed. They stuck close to Roadhog as the big guy started to give chase. Reaper turned backwards firing a round of shots at the trio.

"Beep! Bo Beep!" the bastion let out a warning sound as a red line was spotted on Roadhog's head.

Junkrat, now alerted to it warned his buddy.

"Sniper! Watch your head!"

As soon as he ducked there was a shot fired.

"Well, how about that!" Junkrat said looking up and seeing perched on the top of one of the ruins was a purple woman.

He aimed his grenade launcher and shot one at her but she was quick and used her grappling hook to get away. He ran as fast as he could and tracked her, not even realizing he was separating from his mate. Luckily the bastion followed because as he was looking up some of the members of the black market gang came running forward. The bastion made quick work of them before they could even raise their guns.

"Nice!" said Junkrat, not even realizing he was complimenting the Omnic. "Now I'll just leave this here and..."

Junkrat dropped a concession mine and went into one of the nearby ruins. The bastion followed and went into sentry mode with his barrel aimed towards the door. As soon as they heard some minions running by Junkrat set off his mine and the screams that went off along with the explosion sent a fit of giggles through him.

Junkrat stuck his head out their hiding spot and eyeing the goons they had wasted.

"Hey I guess you have some use other than for the scrap heap!"

The bot made some indignant beeps.

"Yeah, yeah, don't think I forgot the way you tried to off me!" Junkrat said, conveniently forgetting that it was he that wanted to attack the bastion first.

He began readying another mine to throw out.

"After this truce is over, you're mine! I just don't want that ghost to get ya before I do."

Another series a boops followed that and Junkrat through the mine out of their hideout. He didn't like to get chummy with an Omnic but with Roadhog not watching his back he had to make do.

Junkrat chuckled, "Say, you don't mind if I call ya Bastion do you?"

"Beep Boop!"

"OK then, Bastion it's a truce. But after this I'm gonna blow ya to bits!"

* * *

 

About a kilometer away Jesse McCree halted his steps as in the distance as a series of explosions rocked the ancient Greek ruins.

D.Va came up beside him.

"What do you think it is?" she asked.

"I suppose someone crashed the party before we could," McCree wagered.

"Should go ahead and check it out?" Tracer asked.

McCree nodded, "Just keep yourself out of sight. Let us know what you see."

"Sure thing, Love," Tracer said. "I'll keep you posted!"

With a salute she blinked away into the distance.

"She'll be OK?" Lucio asked watching as she went.

"Yeah, she'll be OK," McCree assured him. "But I suspect our plans to keep this quiet's been thrown on its head."

-to be continued-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McCree said kilometer cos I figure by this time the US will use metric. also yes... there will be mcreaper i promise! I just... i'm crazy thanks for reading


	3. Showdown

Tracer received her orders and with the help of her blink ability she was able to get close to the ruins and enemy base in a matter of moments. The rough landscape was no obstacle to her speed and agility. She bounded over large boulders with practiced ease before coming upon the overgrown ruins that withered away in the Ilios countryside.

"Woah," she said, taking a moment to admire it.

Time was not on her side, however, so she had to cut the gawking short and following the sound of the heavy artillery hid behind a brush covered marble building. Weapon drawn, she looked out at what was happening. She witnessed a couple of goons get knocked out by a concussion mine. In the distance she saw Reaper battling with a large man in a mask.

"Tracer to McCree, do you read me?" she said, pressing the communicator in her ear.

"I read ya," came McCree's voice.

"I'm at the rendezvous point now. Talon's here and they're fighting an unknown enemy."

"Human or Omnic?"

"Human, so it seems," came Tracer's reply. "Though… I can't be sure as I only see one of them."

Tracer's eyes widened as she heard a shout behind her.

"There's another one here!"

She turned to see the goons had spotted her.

One of the men was dressed in black clothing and holding an assault rifle right at her. He fired. Despite being hit, with quick thinking Tracer was able to recall, allowing herself to move back to previous position and reverse the damage done.

"What the—" the man gawked but was cut off as he was shot in the chest by Tracer's pulse pistols.

The man beside him tried to attack as well but Tracer did a spin kick knocking his weapon away, effectively disarming him. The man grabbed at her foot and she used his momentum to jump up and hook her leg around his neck and slam him down to the ground. He fell with a grunt and she quickly hopped back and sent two shots from her pistols into him.

"I was spotted but managed to deal with them before they alerted the others," Tracer said into her earpiece once he was down.

"Good," came McCree's voice. "Try to find where they've stashed the payload. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Roger that," Tracer said as she blinked away on her task.

* * *

 

Bastion stopped shooting when the last of their enemy fell before them at the opening of their hiding place.

Junkrat cackled gleefully behind it.

"Well look at that!" the lanky junker exclaimed. "I'd hate to be on the wrong side of that barrel."

Junkrat limped out of the makeshift bunker and kicked the body of the goon.

"These guys weren't nothing. We gotta find Roadie before that ghost tries to kill him!" he said looking back at Bastion.

Bastion changed into Recon mode and exited as well. As he did so his bird friend chose that moment to come flying over, peeping happily. Bastion held out a finger and the bird landed on it. Junkrat huffed at the sight. Bastion made a happy sound and set the bird on his shoulder.

"You ready?" Junkrat asked, not bothering to mask the impatience in his voice.

Bastion made a noise indicating the affirmative before getting cut off and making a shocked sound. Junkrat turned just in time to see someone or something flashing by so quickly. They only saw by the time they were in the distance that it was a girl!

"This place is full of weirdos!" Junkrat said, smacking his face.

"Boo boo," Bastion said in agreement.

"Well, let's go find Roadie," Junkrat said and he ran off in the opposite direction.

Bastion followed behind with heavy steps. Junkrat tried to ignore the part of him that was excited at having such a powerful Omnic such as Bastion following him around and taking his orders. It didn't do good to get attached to the thing. It was an Omnic just like the others, even worse actually, since it was so old it likely was guilty of some terrible things. Junkrat knew enough about the bots to know that Bastion was older than him and a participant in the Omnic crisis.

Still, it was impossible to negate the fact that this was the most fun Junkrat had gotten his hands in for a long time. The recent heists he and Roadhog had pulled off were becoming a little too easy. It was always good to shake things up a bit.

The junker led his new partner deeper into the camp. His greedy eyes took in the different highly priced goods littering the place.

"It's like a gold mine here!" he exclaimed.

He mind got to thinking what they could plunder from the place after winning the battle. His mouth began to salivate with the possibilities. They were rich men! Rich!

"Hooly Dooly!" Junkrat said full of excitement.

He jumped up in the air. Nobody was there to shush him, as Bastion wasn't anything like Roadhog.

"Let's go find Hoggie and get us our prize!"

* * *

 

Widowmaker observed as the last of the boxes was thrown on the back of the caravan. She kept her eyes looking to and fro making sure no enemies were getting close. She heard the explosions and shots of Reaper's gun in the background but was happy to know that they were getting further and further away rather than closer.

'Good,' she thought. 'He was smart enough to get them to chase him the other way.'

"Widowmaker, how is the payload coming along?" Reaper's voice all but growled into her ear over the communicator.

She glanced at the caravan. The doors were being shut. One of the goons turned to her and gave her a signal saying all was ready.

"All is ready," she said.

"Great, stay on the payload," Reaper ordered.

Widowmaker rolled her eyes and made no verbal reply instead walking over to the men.

"Time to move the payload," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am!" a man said getting into the front of the car.

He started the engine and Widowmaker turned just in time to see what could best be described as annoyance come into view.

"Hands up," said a voice, clearly American and very obnoxious.

It was one of the Overwatch members and he was pointing his revolver at her as he approached.

"You're completely surrounded," said the bushy faced man. "And though I'd hate to shoot a lady, for you I'll make the exception."

"Lucky me," Widowmaker said in reply. She shouted to the man in the truck. "Start the vehicle."

"You best give up while I'm still playing nice," McCree warned.

"How about, no?" was Widowmaker's reply.

"Well, can't say I didn't ask nicely."

He whistled and out popped two other agents. Widowmaker had a vague recollection of having seen their faces before though she couldn't place where. It was a girl in a mecha and a boy on skates. In the moment she looked away McCree took out a grenade and threw it in her direction. She was stunned and he rolled in her direction gun cocked and ready to take her out.

Widowmaker struggled and managed to dodge the shots from the enemy. She took out her grappling hook and shot up to pull herself away from the danger.

"I'll go after her," McCree said already taking off. "Don't let this payload outta your sights!"

"I'm on it!" D. Va said blocking the path of the moving vehicle with her truck.

She was able to absorb all the shots from their rifles with her defense matrix.

McCree ran deeper into the site but he quickly lost sight of the Talon sniper. It wasn't easy to keep track of someone who wasn't on the ground. He looked up and thought he saw her form above. He let off a shot but it only hit white marble.

"D. Va how is it going out there?" McCree asked into his communicator.

"Great!" D. Va replied. "Lucio and I are keeping them back. Widowmaker hasn't returned."

It was then that Tracer came running up to him.

"I saw the payload," she said.

"It's already moving. Help Lucio and D. Va stop it."

"But where are you going?" Tracer asked, jogging in one place as McCree passed her.

"Chasing—"

"Look out!"

Tracer pushed McCree out of the way of Widowmaker's shot.

"See! This is why you need backup!"

McCree wasn't going to argue with her there as just that moment a sound rang out through the air. It was something like a charge call, a battle cry of sorts mixed with a cartoonish toot. Tracer and McCree both turned their heads to the source of the sound.

A series of booms followed that nearly shook the ground and then out of the dugout came a specter being. It was dark black and moved unnaturally as if not bound to any rules of physical property.

"Reaper!" gasped Tracer, readying her pule pistols. "Careful, Love. The guy's impenetrable when in that form."

McCree nodded at the reminder though he'd remembered it from Winston's briefing. His eyes, narrowed at the thing approaching, then changed focus upon seeing the source of the booms and ruckus. A cannon was chasing him and behind that cannon was a hefty, masked man. In fact, it was quite possible that outside of Reinhardt the man was the largest man he'd ever seen.

Tracer and McCree both moved for cover behind a crate from the cannon's fire only to see that it was definitely only aiming at the wraith form Reaper, waiting for him to return to his physical form.

"Whose side do you think they're on?" Tracer asked.

"By the looks of it, maybe ours?" guessed McCree.

Though he spoke too soon as the cannon, now obviously that of a bastion, turned its barrel toward their hiding space and let out a blast that sent Tracer and McCree flying. Bastion went into recon mode, his power up ending, and that was when Reaper landed on his feet.

McCree scrambled to his feet, straightening his hat. Tracer was firing at Bastion at close range, using her blink ability to avoid his shots. McCree readied his gun to join in the fray but he was immobilized by the sight before him.

Reaper's form materialized before them. He was dressed in black from head to toe with the white skull mask just like Winston warned them. There was barely a trace of his body and not a single bit of his face was exposed. Still, those mannerism were so familiar that McCree felt a chill come over him, his hairs prickling up along his arms as he watched.

His suspicions were confirmed when from seemingly nowhere Reaper pulled out two shotguns aiming them right for the bastion. With each pull of the trigger his shotguns kicked up sending bullets flying towards their target. Dual wielding shotguns wasn't something just anyone would choose to do.

"Reyes," his gasp was like a whisper.

It was insane but there was no question about it. With each pull of that trigger and roll of those muscles McCree got his confirmation. McCree felt himself overwhelmed with a mixture of feelings though the most dominant of them was relief.

Gabriel Reyes wasn't dead. Though, he did have to come to terms with the fact that yes he was fighting for Talon. McCree quickly banished that thought of it being against Reyes' will. No, never. Nothing like Widowmaker. Reyes wasn't one to be controlled by any outside force. He was a man of his own and he worked within his restrictions.

Perhaps McCree was a bit generous in his thoughts towards his mentor. It was best to put a pause to it.

Besides, there would be time enough to consider all of that later. For now what was important was that his suspicions were confirmed. Reyes was alive and McCree felt like he could fly. He felt lighter with the knowledge and as he jumped up, serape billowing out behind him, ready to roll into the fight – he truly felt near invincible.

Unfortunately he wasn't and he was hooked by the back of the red fabric and went hurtling backwards into a melee hit dealt by that big motherfucker with the mask. He felt his nose crack from the blow and in his daze he threw a flashbang stunning his enemy. He was able to fan the hammer of his gun and roll away.

As he did he got close enough to Reaper to notice the way he tossed his guns aside.

"What are you looking at?" Reaper asked, not even glancing at his feet.

McCree had the decency not to blush.

"I'm sorry," McCree replied barely smothering his grin. "I have the tendency to stare"

He knew Reaper had to recognize him and Tracer both, and he was impressed by his old mentor's ability to appear unaffected. It was a trait that he equal parts loathed and admired back in his Blackwatch days.

"Idiot," rasped Reaper from behind the mask.

From the tone of it, the way it felt so familiar, endearing even, McCree's heart began to beat just a tad bit faster.

Reaper pointed his shotguns in McCree's direction and fired but the gunslinger still had the reflexes to avoid it, popping off a few bullets of his own.

All around them a full out brawl ensued. Tracer was ducking and dodging, weaving between Bastion and Roadhog's every shot. The two were able to take the blasts from her pulse pistols but unable to really catch her. Any hit they did land was erased by her recall.

From Widowmaker's perch she had a good view of the proceedings. She was able to keep an eye on the payload. It was moving at a slow crawl, but definitely still moving. She fired a few shots at D. Va destroying her mecha and sending the young girl running for cover.

Reaper and McCree held a stand off of their own each showing incredible skill as a marksman with each shot. McCree lobbed a flash bang grenade at his enemy in hope of stunning him but Reaper took the opportunity to evade it allowing his body to disintegrate into its mist like state.

Little did they know around the corner was a mischievous Junkrat with a rip tire ready to roll! Junkrat giggled manically to himself. It was of course drowned out by the background noise of mayhem and destruction that Junkrat so loved to hear. Even better to add to the song was his own little tune.

Junkrat took his rip tire and perched it on the corner from his hiding place ready to take aim. All he had to do was take out that cowboy and ghost and Roadhog and Bastion could easily get that annoying girl running around all fast like. With his mind set Junkrat pulled the chord and let it rip!

"Fire in the hole!" he yelled out as he did so.

The tire roared to life and skidded around the corner. Its owner remotely controlled it so it aimed towards its unsuspecting targets.

McCree didn't realize what was coming towards him until it was too late. There was nowhere to run, he and Reaper were a bit too close to a ledge as the tire neared them. When Junkrat pressed the detonator the boom was near deafening and the ground gave in beneath his target's feet.

"Jesse!" Tracer's voice called to her comrade as he disappeared over the ledge in a dramatic show of rocks and smoke.

Reaper went tumbling down behind him.

-to be continued-


	4. Boss

The fall was like slow motion. Tracer's eyes were wide behind her orange lenses. She blinked over to the side of the cliff, dropping to her knees at the ledge and peering over the end of it. All she saw was rocks and debris all the way down the cliffside until it reached foaming sea spray and crashing waves.

"Jesse!" she called.

"We're not done with ya yet!"

Tracer turned at the sound of the voice behind her and before she could react she was grabbed by the chain hook of the larger of the two men.

The leaner of the two, the one who had spoken, began to giggle. Tracer struggled against the chain. She was hit across the face and fell to the ground. She grabbed her nose smearing the blood which now flowed freely from it and looked up at the man as he stomped towards her.

"Self destruct sequence initiated!" D. Va's voice came through Tracer's ear piece.

Suddenly the large pink mecha came charging in between Tracer and her assailant. The count down sequence began and Tracer blinked out of the way towards the payload. As the mecha exploded it hurtled her body forward and she fell face first at D. Va's feet.

"You OK?" D. Va asked offering her downed teammate a hand.

Tracer nodded and took the hand which pulled her to her feet.

* * *

 

As Reaper opened his eyes behind his mask he could feel the pain concentrated in his leg. He shifted beneath the debris, pushing at a particularly large boulder with the intent of freeing his trapped limb.

He gritted his teeth behind his mask, still set upon his face, though askew. His breath rasped as he worked, a grunt escaping him.

"Need a hand?"

Reaper paused in his effort and looked up to see McCree laying a stone's throw away. The idiotic "cowboy" was face down in the rocks, his serape was dusty. His hat had managed to fly away. But still he was smiling at Reaper and his struggle.

"Not from you," bit Reaper.

He didn't know if anyone from Overwatch recognized him yet but he didn't want to stick around to find out. Mustering his strength, Reaper willed himself to dissipate his cells and dislodge his pinned limb. He wafted up and back, away from McCree but was unable to hold it for long and he found himself coming together again ungracefully sprawled out upon the ground.

McCree worked his way to his feet and cautiously watched his old mentor. He didn't know what to say. He heard an explosion far overhead that sounded very much like D. Va's self destruct mechanism. He didn't look away from Reaper who he imagined bearing down and gritting his teeth behind that ridiculous mask.

He knew he was recognized and decided not to beat around the proverbial bush. It wasn't either of their styles.

"No one's here. You can stop pretending like you don't know me."

"It was never relevant enough to acknowledge," Reaper replied.

McCree just chuckled not surprised that Reaper hadn't easily given in and a little happy to know the old man he knew was still really there.

"Let me guess, Reyes is dead. Reaper walks in his stead?"

His communicator beeped and Tracer's voice came in through the static before Reaper replied.

"Jesse, you OK, love?"

"Sure am," McCree replied still watching Reaper.

His opponent pulled out his shotguns and pointed them unabashedly in his direction. McCree held up his hands.

"Though I seem to have lost Reaper in the fall," he lied. "I'm headed back up."

"Great. The payload's stopped and we've apprehended the criminals," Tracer informed him through the headset. "Everyone but Widowmaker."

McCree was amused by the dark tone the sniper's name was said in. He kind of liked the side of Lena Widowmaker was able to bring out of the usually playful pilot.

"Understood. I'll keep an eye out. Rendezvous at the drop ship."

He closed the line of communication and said directly to Reaper, "Good news and bad news. Which would you like first?"

Reaper didn't wait for McCree to tell him, "Those incompetent goonies weren't able to deliver the payload."

McCree nodded his affirmative.

"And Widowmaker saved her own ass."

"Bingo."

Reaper let out what could be interpreted as a sigh, pure sarcasm dripping from his voice, "It's so hard to find good help these days."

"I reckon so what with how poorly that lot on the train handled Blackwatch tactics."

McCree lowered his hands to fetch a cigar from his pocket but halted at the sound of Reaper's guns readying themselves to fire.

"Hey don't get trigger happy on me. I just want to talk," McCree assured him lifting his hands again.

"What's there to talk about?" Reaper asked.

"Well, let's see," McCree rubbed at his bearded with his gloved hand. "For starters last I heard you done blown yourself and a whole lot of people up in Switzerland."

"You actually believe that?" Reaper snorted.

"I don't know anything more than anyone else, just knew for a fact you weren't dead."

"The grave couldn't hold me."

McCree didn't laugh, he was used to Reyes' dramatics even then. His brush with whatever happened only seemed to amplify his intensity.

Reaper lowered his shotgun and McCree counted to 5 before lowering his hands. Finally he could grab his cigar. He placed the butt to his lips and lit it with a match.

"Didn't I tell you to quit that shit?" Reaper growled.

"I took it back up," McCree replied. "Not like I answer to anyone but myself anymore."

That had been Blackwatch McCree who didn't smoke. The real McCree, Jesse, the one under all the fancying up Reyes did to him, was more raw than that. It had been a long run for him, a good one too, in Blackwatch. It wasn't all bad, a lot of good was mixed up in it, but it hadn't been the right fit. He left without notice.

"You never did explain why you took off like that," Reaper said, though there wasn't a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Too many rules, too many obligations. I was never good at any of that."

It wasn't anything Reaper didn't know. The kid wasn't terrible, but he was bad with rules. He worked too much by instinct and gut and it didn't rub too well with the Overwatch playbook. Blackwatch was an appropriate fit for him when young but the older he got the more restless he became.

"I knew you'd break away eventually," admitted Reaper. "I wasn't surprised when you finally did."

"Didn't think you would be," McCree said. "Or else I probably wouldn't have done it."

It was a bold admission and McCree really wished he could look in Reaper's eyes as he said it. Instead he had to face that mask.

"Yet, you came back," pointed out Reaper.

"Not sure if you've got the memo but Overwatch isn't quite what it used to be," McCree said.

He omitted the fact that he was pretty sure he wouldn't stick around too long this time either, even if the place was more his speed than it had been. He chuckled around the cigar in his mouth, shoulders shaking.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Just... I imagined what it would be like when I saw you again and this," McCree gestured to the rubble around them, the cliffs and sea. "This wasn't quite how I pictured it."

Reaper huffed and crossed his arms regarding McCree a bit.

"You never did change did you?" he asked. "You're reckless. I could have killed you."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. I did change. There's a lot I learned in your absence. Maybe one of these days I'll be able to show you."

Reaper took a moment to reply, as if he was weighing the statement in his mind, before the words came out of his mouth, "I look forward to it."

A warmth blossomed in McCree's chest and he cursed himself for having that residual desire for his mentor's approval. But he wasn't lying. He'd come into his own in his years away from Blackwatch and Reyes' influence. He was no longer Reyes' pupil.

Reaper lifted a clawed gauntlet to his own head, tapping at his hood.

"Your hat's missing," he said teasingly.

"Huh?" McCree was suddenly hyper aware of the wind in his hair and he reached up running metal fingers through his shaggy locks. "What the-"

He began turning around looking this way and that frantically.

"Where's my hat?"

All he could see were rocks and stones everywhere. Reaper's steady low laughter turned the cowboy's attention back to him.

"Don't just stand there! You gotta help me find it!"

McCree moved, climbing a few rocks to check the place he had initially landed.

"It's just a hat," Reaper replied, though he knew how much it meant to McCree.

"Yeah, and it's just a hoodie, it's just a beanie, it's just a mask," bit McCree over his shoulder.

Reaper unfolded his arms and walked over.

"I can't believe I am doing this," he muttered beneath his breath as he proceeded to help McCree look through the rubble.

* * *

 

Junkrat could hear voices as he came to. He blinked away the blurriness in his vision.

"Yep, he says he'll meet us at the drop ship," a female voice was saying.

A man replied, "OK, but what about the stuff here? We can't just leave it."

"Well, the authorities are on their way to pick up the contraband and gang members. We can keep the bastion unit for ourselves."

That got Junkrat's attention. He turned his head, he couldn't turn his body, he found. He was restricted, tied to a rather large crate and bound with rope at his hands and feet.

"Hey! You leave Bastion alone! He's mine!"

"Welp the scrawny one is awake," said the man.

He came into Junkrat's line of sight revealing himself to be toned with long dreads tied in a high ponytail. He looked familiar and Junkrat was able to place him as that famous guy on so many posters around the world.

"Who you callin' scrawny!?" quipped Junkrat back.

"You, Shrimp," Roadhog wheezed from behind his mask, alerting Junkrat to the fact that his partner was tied up as well to the same crate.

"You're enjoying this ain't you?" Junkrat pouted.

There was no reply.

"Let me go!" shrieked Junkrat.

"He's a loud one, ain't he?" another female said coming to Lucio's side.

"Should we knock him back out?" Lucio asked his partners.

"Please do," said Roadhog.

"You're not helping!" protested Junkrat.

A beep boop came out from Bastion. The unit was tied up to a crate beside him.

"Thanks Bastion, I knew you'd take my side!"

"Wait," said the girl in the blue and pink jumpsuit. "You can understand it?"

"Of course I can!" lied Junkrat. "Right, Bastion?"

Bastion gave a beep to the affirmative that actually made Junkrat start to believe his own tale.

"And like I said you can't have him! I found him. You ever heard the phrase, finders keepers?"

"I don't think you have a choice, love. You're all tied up. We could leave you right here and take him with us," said the British girl with short brown hair. "And besides, that phrase ends with 'losers weepers'."

"Looks like you lost to me," chimed in the other girl, D. Va.

Junkrat fought against his restraints in frustration. It wasn't fair! It was starting out to be such a great day and they had got themselves a nice scrap haul, but it had to go to shit because of these guys. Of course, he had confidence in his ability to escape, but it was still an annoyance. Having just woken up his mind wasn't yet to full speed and he just needed a moment to think.

"This isn't over yet, and like I said this scrap heap is mine."

"What's a guy like you going to do with a bastion?" asked Tracer, humoring the captive.

"Bastion," Junkrat said correcting the girl just to be a contrary. "Not a bastion."

Bastion made noises that seemingly backed him up.

"See, he has a name. And the bird is Ganymede."

A wheezing laugh of a cough came out of Roadhog's mouth that sounded something like the word bullshit, but one couldn't be too sure.

"OK fine, Bastion," Tracer conceded. "Look, I don't know who you are, and I don't really care. You don't look innocent but it's not any of my business. The Ilios task force are on their way to get you and the black market guys, but we keep Bastion."

"I'm not going to go to jail. What's it to blow up a couple of policemen?"

"We have your weapons," deadpanned Tracer.

"Yeah, for now," giggled Junkrat.

"Right," D. Va said, then looked at Tracer. "He's impossible. Can we go back to the drop ship now?"

"Sure thing. You and Lucio can go ahead and I'll wait here for the police. Take Bastion."

"Hey! Aren't you listening to anything I say? Bastion only listens to me, so good luck getting him to follow you," Junkrat said.

"Are you like... a team?" Lucio asked.

"Yep, and I'm the boss," replied Junkrat.

Lucio hummed and then looked at Roadhog.

"It's true," confirmed the giant. "He's boss."

Lucio rubbed his chin for a moment, taking in Junkrat's shit eating grin, and then gesturing for Tracer to follow him. He, D. Va and Tracer walked away just far enough for the Junkers to not be able to hear them.

"So what do you think?" Lucio asked.

"What do you mean? We're turning them in," Tracer said.

"Why are we taking Bastion back again?" D. Va asked, unwrapping a piece of bubble gum and tossing it into her mouth.

Lucio held out his hand and D. Va handed him the packet.

"OK," said Tracer. "This is actually some intel between Winston and I but there has been reports of a single operational bastion unit that is roaming the wilderness. Winston has been wanting to track it down so we could weaponize it for Overwatch purposes while also researching the mechanisms that suppresses its fight instinct."

"Hmm, and you think Bastion is _the_ bastion?" asked Lucio.

"There's supposedly only one."

"I don't trust them," D. Va said popping her gum. "They're not with these goonies but they stink, and not just literally either."

She pinched her nose and the other two nodded.

"Well, if it's true Bastion only answers to the boss we'll find out soon enough," shrugged Lucio.

"So I guess this means we untie the unit and get it to the jump ship?"

Tracer nodded, "We try."

The three shared a look to show they were all in on the plan and then turned around to where their captives were, only to see they were gone. A pool of rope lay in the grass where they once sat.

"They escaped!" gasped Tracer.

Junkrat's wild cackling was heard along with the loud foot steps of Roadhog and Bastion retreating.

* * *

 

McCree and Reaper were still searching for the hat.

There was very little conversation between the two, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The sun was no longer so high over head. A considerable amount of time had passed since their two teams' encounter on the cliff side. It was so much hotter than McCree realized earlier. The brim of his hat did so well to shield him from the sun and he missed it dearly.

If he wasn't so intent on finding it perhaps McCree would laugh at the silliness of the situation. He regretted the fact he'd have no one to talk to about it upon getting back to Gibraltar. His time spent with Reyes would have to remain secret for the time being.

McCree kicked at a particularly huge boulder then moved to use his arms when it didn't budge. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow and into his unkempt beard and he paused briefly to wipe it. He chanced a glance at Reaper who was a distance away on knees, cloak billowing out comically behind him like a dress, and head completely hidden by his hood.

"Ain't you hot in all that?" McCree shouted.

"Did you ever know me to be hot?"

McCree thought about it for a second before smiling around his cigar, "No, Mr. Hood-in-the-Summertime, sir."

Reaper showed no outward signs of being bothered by the teasing. McCree missed his face, but still didn't bring up the mask. McCree returned to his hunt, expecting it to return to quiet when Reaper was the one who spoke first.

"You imagined our reunion?"

The voice was right behind him, spoken directly into his ear, and it sent a trill up McCree's spine. His hat was slammed roughly onto his head and McCree whirled around and found himself chest to chest with his old mentor.

"Holy fuck," McCree said, heart like a hammer against his ribcage.

He was briefed by Winston to the fact Reaper could teleport but he didn't register it until that moment.

"Thanks," he said.

"Don't mention it," Reaper said.

Reaper moved back, giving McCree the space that the cowboy didn't really want back.

"I did," McCree said, answering Reaper's initial question. "Like I said, I damn sure knew you won't dead."

"How did it go?" Reaper asked.

McCree shrugged, "Various ways. It would be random, maybe in a bar – Dorado – you'd be drinking with that vigilante guy, Soldier 76-"

Reaper snorted.

"And I'd see you, buy you a drink. You'd scold me for smoking."

"You're fucking ridiculous," Reaper said, and McCree thought he could read amusement in it.

"I am, aren't I? But this is nice too," McCree said gesturing around them to the rock beach they stood upon.

"Hmph, romantic," Reaper replied.

McCree's grin grew wider. As a burst of blood rushed to his cheeks he reminded himself that it was a joke, and no, he didn't still hold a candle for his old mentor. That crush had died years ago, and _of course_ he was no longer so impressionable.

"You said it," McCree drawled, not missing a beat. "Not me."

Reaper slapped the hat off of McCree's head.

-to be continued-


	5. Farewell

Their weapons were found with relative ease. Not much time was lost in that aspect of Junkrat and his team's escape. Roadhog and Junkrat busied themselves with quickly reequipping their gear. Strapping his bombs to his chest he couldn't help but notice how Bastion was standing sentry for them, peaking out with his gun ready to fire.

"All right! I'm decent!" Junkrat giggled once his gear was all fixed. "Well, as decent as I'm gonna get anyway."

Before he could get too giddy though Bastion let out a warning sound.

"Sounds like those three found out we escaped," Junkrat said. "Let's get outta here. Roadhog you take the back. Bastion you come up ahead with me."

Bastion and Roadhog obeyed the command taking their delegated positions. Junkrat was not as fast their pursuer however and Tracer was soon hot on their trail. She blinked right in front of the Junker, shooting. Junkrat was able to think quickly, blocking the bullets with one of his mines. The case was tough enough to take the bullets before he threw it in front of him.

Tracer thought he was aiming at her and recalled to her previous position, but it was a miscalculation. Junkrat was looking for an open and he got it. He climbed onto the dented mine and turned to face her.

"I hate to bid you farewell so soon, but without further ado..."

He pressed the detonator on his mine and was launched into the air in a backwards arc away from the girl. Tracer shielded her eyes to get a good look at his figure against the sun before taking off I a run after her. The pursuit was halted by Bastion, running backwards and shooting at the same time. She was forced to duck behind some crates.

* * *

 

The sun was waning and McCree wondered how he allowed it to get this late and when the time passed away. It was peaceful though as if they were in a bubble. The sound of the waves beating at the rocks on the shore had dulled him to anything but the man who no longer stood directly in front of him.

Reaper moved, cloak billowing softly in the Grecian breeze, revealing each step of his metal plated boots against the rocks.

McCree adjusted his hat back on his head, content to just ride the moment out. He hadn't expected Reaper to speak next.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Reaper said. "I always knew you'd leave Overwatch. I figured the day you did you'd be gone for good."

"Well I'm back," grinned McCree.

"That you are," acquiesced Reaper. "But as much as this chat was nice..."

Tendrils of darkened mist began to fill the air. McCree panicked. All the words he wanted to say, he hadn't been able to say them. And hell if he knew what they were but shit, he needed time! He couldn't stop it from coming up in his voice.

"Wait-"

Reaper settled, returning to a more corporal form.

"Don't you care why I wanted to see you?"

"Not really."

McCree wasn't deterred and stepped closer.

"Back then I really used to look up to you, some people might have affectionately referred to me as your shadow."

This of course wasn't new information to either of them.

McCree continued, "Well, it may have been a little more than that and I actually liked you."

Reaper snorted behind his mask, "Yeah, but what does that have to do with now?"

He wasn't dense, McCree knew it first hand. He was walking out into his mentor's outstretched hand taking the birdseed which had fallen there.

"I reckon I just wanted to see if the feeling still stood after all these years."

The silence was thick and McCree glanced at Reaper from under his hat's brim right in the center of the mask where his eyes were. There was no telling the length of the pause but Reaper was the one who broke it.

"And?"

"And yeah, despite everything I guess it does," McCree paused, took in and let go of a shaky breathe. "Goddammit, Gabe. I love you."

A groan came out from Reaper's mouth as he turned his head away in an exasperated manner.

"You never were a smart one."

"Nope," McCree said without an ounce of shame.

* * *

 

The countryside was wide and expansive and finally they were free! Junkrat couldn't suppress the grin that stretched across his face and honestly,why would he even try? He just felt so alive!

He spread his arms out towards the sky and let the chilled evening wind pass over the heated flesh of cheeks flushed beneath their coating of dark gun power and soot. His hair rustled and he turned, baring his teeth to the two behind him.

Roadhog and Bastion were coming up slowly. The two big and bulky frames worked at their own pace up the hill.

"Hurry up you slow pokes!" prodded Junkrat. "You know I hate waiting."

"Hurry? To where?" Roadhog asked as he neared.

"It doesn't matter! The wide world is our oyster!"

Roadhog huffed behind his mask, and gestured with a fat thumb at the Bastion bot that still followed the pair as if it didn't recall the fact that not even 24 hours prior the Junkers were planning to make scrap out of it.

"We won't be going anywhere fast with that thing. It's a beacon for trouble."

It was true. How could they travel with a Bastion unit? Stowing away on ships and other vessels would be all but impossible with it. The thing didn't even have a stealth mode. It was so damn noisy. Junkrat didn't seem fazed by the problem merely waving away his bodyguard's concern with a lanky hand.

"Details details," Junkrat said. "I can throw the riddle right back at you. How could we not travel with a Bastion?"

Roadhog could name many reasons but wasn't given the chance to.

"Bastion and I have a connection. This is something someone such as yourself won't be able to appreciate."

Roadhog snorted, but it wasn't quite decipherable whether it were a laugh or not.

Still, the larger and older Junker had worked for Jamison long enough that when the kid had his mind set, well there just wasn't any arguing with him. Roadhog didn't like Omnics and he knew Junkrat didn't either. Maybe it was the dog-like loyalty the thing presented that softened Junkrat's disposition towards it. After all, Junkrat didn't get that kind of validation or affection from other humans easily.

He watched as Junkrat and Bastion fake boxed up ahead. Junkrat air punched the space right in front of Bastion's face plate and the Omnic let its head fall back as if broken off a spring. It set Junkrat into a roar of laughter as he slumped against Bastion's side.

Mayhem and mischief be damned, he was still a kid.

Roadhog may have smiled beneath his mask as he watched the two playing to against the background of the setting sun.

* * *

 

"I don't remember parking so far away," D. Va complained as she, Tracer, and Lucio made their way back to the drop ship.

"That's because you were riding in your Mecha the first time. Now you know how us normal people feel," Lucio shot back.

Tracer sighed barely even listening to their exchange. She was thinking about how the Junkers and that Bastion escaped. It was a shame really. She was sure both Bastion and Overwatch would benefit if Winston was able to study the unit and change its programming for good. Then again, the Bastion seemed to be doing OK with the Junkers.

Was it really up to any bad thing these days? She hoped not.

"Hey, McCree!"

Lucio's cheerful shout brought Lena out of her thoughts and she was surprised to see McCree standing at the foot of the drop ship. She blinked towards their mission leader, reaching him in basically no time.

"Sorry, Love," she apologized with a bit of a long face. "The black market gang were picked up as reported, but the Junkers and the Bastion got away."

She winced only slightly as McCree clapped her on the back. He looked a little too happy, she noted as he smiled around a lit cigar. He had a firm grasp to her shoulder.

"You can't win 'em all, but as long as we keep trying," he said.

The way he said it, Tracer wondered if there was some layered meaning, as if he wasn't speaking just to her but also to himself. She glanced up at the man in awe, and realized he was no longer looking at her.

A question started to form on the tip of the tongue but he let go of her then and walked towards the drop ship.

"Now, open this door and let's mosey on home."

"Aye, aye captain!" she said, bouncing back to her normal cheery demeanor.

It was time to go home.

* * *

 

Widowmaker sensed Reaper's presence behind her even before he fully materialized. She knew how he felt about the mission even before he said it. She figured his whole body would be quivering with his displeasure.

She turned her head, giving him her profile, and she saw the way he walked over slowly and deliberately standing beside her at her post. They were looking out over the ocean from beneath the shadow of their own ship.

When he stopped she turned to look at the drop ship's pilot, signaling to him that it was time to take their departure. The vehicle's doors opened and she walked in expecting Reaper to follow.

He didn't however, instead taking a moment to sweep his eyes over the landscape. New memories were made that day, some better than others.

They failed in their mission. McCree was right, he was loathe to admit, that the Talon agents had employed their Blackwatch techniques sloppily. Perhaps with time, a lot of time, they'd be able to pull off a mission with half the discipline Reaper desired from his men. They just didn't have the raw aptitude.

Jesse however, he was full of potential from day one. Reaper saw it back then and standing in front of the boy turned man that day only served as further reminder of what could have been. If they teamed together, they'd be able to accomplish any goal and mow over any obstacle in their way. He wouldn't have to rely on incompetent goons or partner with a woman whose mind wasn't even quite hers any longer.

They'd be a pair, a damned near perfect one. That kind of training could be instilled in someone with a talent like McCree held.

But damned if he could.

They weren't standing on the same side of the field any more, and perhaps that was the fate that the dice had long ago rolled for the two of them.

'I love you.'

McCree's voice echoed through his mind as if carried by the wind.

He turned to the ship where Widowmaker was waiting in the doorway. He ascended the ramp and didn't even look back.

Jesse was a good kid. He wasn't going to take that away from him.

-THE END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY IT'S FINISHED! I literally wrote this fic only cos I wanted to use the line "Goddamit, Gabe. I love you." And yeah so... yeP!
> 
> lol thanks everyone who supported and waited for this to be finished. I sat on half of this chapter for so long because I was so displeased with how it was coming out. But now I can say I'm kind of sot of ok! Thanks again for reading and stuff~ The response has been phenomenal!

**Author's Note:**

> let me just post this before i get cold feet
> 
> this is mcreaper! TOTALLY MCREAPER! Like... for real! The first chapter may not look like it but YEP! mcreaper. and it's not gonna be angsty either! SURPRISE! Let's hope to keep this under 5 chapters...
> 
> i'm not australian so i didn't try to butcher it. just say it in ur mind with his accent kthnx


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